Devil in SF
by himitsutsubasa
Summary: Amost all OC. Watch a detective Blutbad deal with a consultant Grimm, who is completely ignorant of her heritage. Add her ability to tell your coworker is having an affair with your boss, and you have one annoying kid on your hands. Now, it's just a matter of the body count when she's done.
1. The Devil Wakes

Supposed to be an All-Original-Cast Grimmverse but I'm lazy and we all know how my AOC things work out. Wall is up.

* * *

><p>Cold. Very cold.<p>

The grey walls were stained red. Bloody crimson and it dripped in little pools to the floor. It looked like a TV show murder scene. Blood was everywhere. It clung in stalactites to the ceiling and pools dripped all over the floor. Footsteps tracked bloody paw prints all over the floor.

They wove into a myriad dance before ending at a body. A girl. She curled up in a fetal position, trying to preserve the warmth in her body. But to no avail, her core temperature dropped gradually. It started at her fingers. Then her hands went dead. Her toes were icicles and her feet were off connection to her body. Her appendages were chilled to the bone and no the only thing that still worked was her heart and her brain. Her heart beat raggedly and her lungs labored to breathe. The cold air was only minutely warmed by her exhausted lungs. Her brain functioned at a snail's pace but that was enough. One thought flickered across her consciousness. Him. And it all went dark.

* * *

><p>"Are you joking?" She sat at a small ocher table and cradled in her hands a pair of Giants tickets. She was alive. She was happy.<p>

"No joke." A boy sat across from her and smiled at her. "Do you think he'll like them?" His young face had a few shaving scars, tales of his morning in front of the mirror, and his dark hair spiked up in the strangest places.

She grinned and passed them back. "They are perfect." He smiled even wider, revealing a set of perfect teeth. And then a dark skinned boy sat down at the table and sipped his coffee.

"What are you talking about?" He looked at them over his chilled cappuccino. The girl gave the first boy a wink and got up.

"Go get 'em, tiger." The dark skinned one was surprised when the other boy took his hand and flashed the tickets.

"Are you kidding me?" An excited chatter filled the air.

And she walked away.

* * *

><p>"Boys, we got a homicide." They leaned over the dead body.<p>

"Death by bludgeoning. Five foot ten inches. Caucasian. Male." The M.E. stood up and removed the plastic gloves. They were stained a chilling red.

"What about the girl?" They all glanced over to the girl wrapped in an orange shock blanket. She kept trying to shrug it off but the medics slung it ever her shoulders. The uniformed cop looked annoyed and was once again trying to get a few questions answered without a smart comment.

"Look, he is an affluent young lawyer. He just got upgraded to partner at his firm. Don't bother calling it in, he didn't go to work. You can tell it was staged to look like suicide but the marks all say bludgeoning. The killer probably hit him up at around six. Then, the perpetrator dumped his body here around ten." She crossed her arm flashing the red stripes on her jacket.

The officer looked even more annoyed. "Kid, I just want you to tell me what you saw."

"Fine. I saw everything as it was when you arrived except I turned him on his side to see if he was breathing." She held out a battered mobile. "I got photos." The officer took the phone and searched it. Then he bagged it to her amusement and stalked off in a huff.

"Who is she?" The uniform, a round pink man, walked up in a huff and gave the bag to the detectives.

"She says her name is Minna Viveca. She is a high school student, but as you know, they are out of school for furlough days. She was in a café with friends but forgot something at the library and was going back to get it when she saw this." He gestured to the body. The detectives nodded his dismissal and after a bit of debate, decided they would ask her if she was the killer after getting a coffee.

* * *

><p>"How do you know he is a lawyer?" She tossed a wallet on the desk.<p>

"Confirmation. BGD law firm. They're situated over on Market Street." The detectives gave her a startled look.

"You took his wallet?" One detective, he had introduced himself as Gregory, stared at it incredulously.

"I held it with a napkin," she offered. The other detective, a detective by the name of Lawson, bagged it quickly and motioned for the girl to empty her pockets. She turned them inside out and found nothing. He was surprised they hadn't picked up the wallet when they searched her for weapons earlier.

"How did you know he was a lawyer?" Gregory watched her suspiciously.

"I would like to plead the fifth."

"You can't plead the fifth."

"But, you'll think I'm crazy." She shrugged.

"We won't." He tried to conceal his annoyance. Crazy? He was for asking a girl when she knew things that meant she was the killer. She watched his expression.

"Okay, then." A spark alighted in her eyes. "He has money. The shirt is Dolce and Gabbana, actually the whole suit is. There is a slip of paper in his pocket a receipt for a coffee shop. Why was he there? A quick Google search will tell you the courthouse is not even twenty feet away. The cufflinks say BGD on them. Lawyer at BGD. And from the smell, he's gotten promoted. He wants to make a good first day impression. The cufflinks are presented to partners at the firm and confirmed from the images on the website, so partner he is."

"And suicide?"

"His body was positioned to look like he jumped from the building. There was a problem; he had a dent in his head. Suicide out."

"And the time?"

"Look at his shirt. The tie is wide but messy and the top button of his shirt is not done up. No lawyer would leave the house like that. He would have to get up early if he wanted to get to the office considering today's traffic and the BART strikes. He got up around six. I walked past there at nine this morning and no body. I walk past at eleven and there is? Ten, because it would have taken the body an hour to cool at the temperature outside."

She smiled tightly. Greg looked unfazed while Lawson was flustered. Clearly not used to the witnesses doing the forensic and police work, then serving it up on a platter garnished with a dollop of condescendence.

"That was crazy." Lawson ventured. A bit unimaginative.

"No shit, Sherlock." Gregory muttered taking his clipboard and making notes.

She observed them for a second. "Detective Lawson, how is your girlfriend doing?"

"What are you talking about? I'm married." He held up his hand to show her the ring. His face had blossomed into a bright pink hue.

"Exactly." She smiled again. It was a shark's grin.

* * *

><p>"That was an interesting trick." Gregory sat in the break room watching the girl sip on a tea. Her black jacket had red horizontal stripes over it. She wasn't a fan of coffee. She watched him.<p>

"A parlor trick, really." She took another sip of her tea. "It takes little effort. I don't' do it often because people stare, but when someone annoys me enough, I will." She gave him a few seconds and continued watching him. "So what's your story?"

Gregory stiffened. Last thing he wanted was to tell this girl.

"I believe you could tell me about that metamorphosis going on with your face." She stared watching him intently. Unlikely she was willing to show it, but an eager and slightly scared expression crossed her face and settled in her eyes.

The inner creature shrugged. Why not? His face switched out. And, he waited. She didn't change. The only thought that occurred to him when he caught a whiff was "Oh, crap".

"Grimm." The words left his mouth. She looked confused.

Her pretty little head tilted to one side. Her hair revealed a pale neck and a lovely pulsating jugular.

No. Stop! What was he thinking? The "kill Grimm" instincts were taking over. No. They wouldn't. Not while he was breathing.

"Grimm." He waited for her to react. To pull out a dagger and cut his head off. To carve out a slow and painful death. But, it never came.

"You mean the writers? The faerie tales." That was it?

"You have no idea what you are." Gregory stated in awe. She didn't' know. Her eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I have no idea. So, may I ask that you explain?" Her question was well phrased. And she watched him intently.

"You read the fairytales, right?" She gave him a small shake of the head.

"Not, really. I have heard of a few but I have never read them." His eyes rolled automatically. Kids these days; they never had time for anything other than their cell phones.

"What you are is a Grimm, a human who sees people, like me, as beasts. You are creature hunters. Sort of like a vigilante group in fairytales." That she grasped readily.

"You go around killing guys like us." He leaned back into the chair. Her eyes scanned his body.

"Killing?" She stared. She was making it a habit.

"Yes. Killing." He let that sink in. It sank remarkably quickly.

"So what are you?" Her eyes lit up. So this was something interesting for her.

"Blutbad." Gregory said quietly.

She repeated perfectly. "Blutbad." Her mouth wrapped around the words and her lips parted to reveal the soft, red inside of her mouth. Red. For a second, he wondered exactly how much red could drain out of her body. Her body shifted defensively under his stare.

"German. Meaning: bloodbath," Gregory continued. "What you Grimms call the 'big bad wolf'. Sadly, I am not very big," he motioned at the badge on his belt, "or very bad." She sat for a second watching him.

"How does this Grimm gift work?" She gave him a few seconds as her gaze roamed the room, looking for observers and on lookers. More for his benefit because if anyone heard, he sounded crazy.

"First of all, 'gift' means 'poison' in German. A bit confusing at Christmas, but you get used to it." He could see her mentally file that away. What a weird kid. What a weird Grimm. "Second, not exactly sure so let me tell you about myself. You're probably going to ask that next." She nodded.

"Blutbad is a type of wesen. 'Wesen' is a creature in general. We typically keep to our selves, like red, and stay in packs." She stared.

"Stop staring." Her intent gaze wavered and settled on looking apathetically interested. But, she was far from apathetic.

"I am different. I'm a weider blutbad. We stay good, in a sense. No killing little girls, off to see their grandmothers." He took a breath.

"We use drugs, a special diet and Pilates. We even have our own church. Frankly, you couldn't tell the difference between us and anyone else on the street unless we slip. Of course we can show our 'game face' to normal people but that shock would probably send them to the nut house. Though if the guys we got pleading insanity these days have anything to do with it, they are comfortable."

"But, in general normal people can't see it. You, Grimm, can. Somehow, you can. And all these years you have used it to hunt us down and kill us." His eyes grew cold and a snarl escaped him. For a second, her pupils bloomed in black and her breathing hitched. But it wasn't fear. The lips parted slightly, a smile of exhilaration.

"Oh, why are you so close? No fraternizing with the suspects."

A tall blond woman stepped into the break room. She filled her mug and asked, "Detective Kreig, you know the rules. No romance with the suspects while they are under investigation. So, why are you two sitting so close?" they were two inches from each other.

Gregory shifted back. Minna leaned back only lightly. She didn't want to release her grip on the officer.

The blonde grinned revealing a full set of pearly teeth. "Don't worry too much longer though. The library just cleared you. We'll finish the paper work in a second." Gregory relaxed as his boss left the room.

"So, the girlfriend is your commanding officer."

"Who?"

"Your partner, Lawson, is in a romantic relationship with your commanding officer."

"What?"

"You see when a man and a woman love each other very much…"

"No. He's not my partner. I get it but how did you figure they were in a relationship?"

"She's wearing his deodorant and clearly hadn't gone home for the night. Who else? Don't tell his wife, though, I surmise she'll find out when she sees the blonde hair on him." She continued, "She called you 'detective' and wears very high, expensive heels. It is a desk job with rank difference. She also speaks with authority, ergo commanding officer." He watched her. He was glad he watched the Sherlock Holmes series as a kid. Or at least the reruns. He found it a great advantage to not go around saying "amazing" to a Grimm.

"So, I assume there are more of you?" Her question appeared out of the blue.

"Who?"

"Wesen or blutbads?"

"Blutbaden." He corrected. "Oh, of course, there are melllifers, and hexenbeists, and jagerbars, and…" Oh My Grimm, he was helping her. Paranoia kicked in. "This is what you were going for the whole time. You faked innocence. You just want to know where the creatures are and you'll dispose of us."

"Right and wrong, dear Gregory." She settled on her elbows. "I want to know more about you. However, I have no intention of killing anyone. I would like to stay out of prison." He let his breathing settle. She wasn't going to kill anyone. Great.

"Okay, kid, I have questions for you."

She shrugged, "Fair is fair. I asked five. You asked one question not counting the rhetorical ones. Your grand total is four questions. Ask away."

"Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"I require information," she deadpanned. She was as crafty as a fauchsbau. That was one question down.

"Why aren't you reading the Grimmoires?" Two.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You don't know what the grimoires are? Wait! That's not my question." She nodded. The first, the second, or both?

"Okay, then, I'll assume you have no idea what the grimoires are. Why are you asking me? Wait I know the answer. I'm the closest person to you." Hn… He wasn't sure what to ask her.

"Why are you doing this?" Three.

"Sitting? Because it's comfortable."

"No, I meant." He furrowed his brows slightly. One question. She read the frustration off his face.

"You have until I leave." She gave him a smile.

"How did your relation die?" She seemed taken aback. Then with a grim scowl she muttered to herself. Something in another language. She heard a knock and her mother, at least he assumed it was, appeared in the doorway. The woman was old enough to be her mother. She was a bit round around the stomach and wore a pair of elastic waist jeans. She looked too awkward. As if she still didn't know Minna very well.

"You'll find that on file, Detective Kreig." Minna turned to the woman, "I need to stop by the library. My folder is there and I want to check out a few books of fairy tales and learning German." She gave him a sharp look and smiled a fake grin to her mother before walking out of the precinct. Not before raising an eye brow at Peterman. He was a bauerschwein. And surprisingly enough he didn't mind Kreig's blutbad status.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Blutbad, you see that?" He looked excited. "A Grimm!" He plunked his butt in the chair she previously occupied. "She's a bit young but imagine it! A real Grimm!" He tossed his hands in the air and his second chin quivered. For a second, Gregory wondered how he stayed a uniform and kept up with the physicals. But then, this fellow worked inventory and evidence.<p>

"I don't know I might have struck a nerve. And shut up about the wesen." He knew the bauerschwein would want to whack him upside the head. Bauerschwein were the closest thing to police in the wesen side of the coin.

"Damn. Five minutes and she hates your guts? I took her for the nice type, not your typical bloodthirsty Grimm." The portly fellow grabbed a glazed doughnut and bit into it. "Here's her file. Thought you might like to see it."

If Gregory Kreig had expected anything it wouldn't have been a rap sheet for Minna Viveca. But it wasn't. It was a case file on a car accident. Given she lived in Oakland at the time; it wasn't that big a deal. A gangster had gunned down a car and soon there was a pile up the length of Oracle stadium. A bit extravagant for a car pileup, but it was not unusual for a chain collision.

Then he saw the photos. There were none specifically of her but she was in the back drop of a few. She looked out of place in her red overcoat. For the anger and pain she must have felt as she watched her family get air lifted to the nearest hospital. For the madness that exuded around her. Judging by the reports and his colleagues there was a lot of that. But she stood taking everything in. Her eyes were too far away but he guessed they were blank. Shock. From the looks of that morning, she got over what she saw three months ago. Or she was coping. A small box printed that she had a few fractured bones but no breaks. Those healed and she was sent to her aunt. So that was the person who picked her up.

"Her parents aren't Grimm. They're too nice. Her aunt ain't Grimm too." The aunt was on the mother's side. I noted her father died that day alongside his mother and his wife. There was a picture of a young girl who looked a bit like Minna. She was hooked up to a respirator. The writing on the edge of the photo said "Teresa Viveca", Minna's younger sister was marked as deceased in the file.

"Her only living relation is her aunt on her mother's side. She's sorta rich and gets the occasional parking ticket. But who doesn't in SF?" Did her father know he was a Grimm? He never told Minna so it was safe to assume no.

His cellphone went off. A text from Lawson told him Minna was right. About everything.

"Thanks, Porky." Peterson started but gave up and grabbed a second doughnut. Detective Kreig left the break room and went up to his murder board. He wrote in bright red expo marker a name that would haunt him. Minna Viveca.


	2. The Mortals Will Know

Monroe wasn't psychic. Or clairvoyant. Or whatever palm readers are called. Therefore, he could not have predicted that Nick would be on his door step with a bottle of wine.

"Congratulations. Another case closed." Nick stepped across the threshold and was in Monroe's living room in no time.

"And, it was the butler?" Monroe asked looking at the wine label. Finally, the detective was learning the meaning of good wine.

"It's never the butler." Nick was already removing a beer from the refrigerator.

"Who then?" Monroe found his wine glasses.

"The maid." They sat at his table and reviewed the end to another fantastically Grimm case. No pun intended.

Monroe was enjoying the sweet and what can only be described as sultry taste of the wine when his phone went off.

"MONROE!" A familiar redhead was on the line.

"Angelina?" Monroe was in a bit of shock. She had vanished for who knows how long. And now she called out of the blue?

Nick was bolt upright. "Angelina?" He echoed.

The sense of urgency in her voice tripled as she asked, "Is the Grimm there? Put this on speaker."

Monroe set the phone on the table and did as he was told.

"Hey, Angelina," Nick began.

"I'm not telling you where I am."

"Fine." Nick looked a bit disappointed at that.

"Monroe, whatever you do, don't let go of that Grimm." It took both of them a second to process it.

"What?"

"You remember Gregory?" Monroe recalled a distant memory of Angelina's blonde second cousin. Nick's eyebrows went up.

"Your blutbad cousin. Yeah, I remember." Monroe looked at Nick hoping it would be enough. Nick gave him the "tell me more later" look.

"Well, he has a pet Grimm." Nick looked shocked and Monroe was none to coherent.

"A pet what?" He asked.

"Grimm. He introduced me. I don't remember her name, but she is a Grimm. And, she did some freaky mind thing and told me about Hal's death and how it was a bauershwin and what hotel I was staying at and the steak I had for lunch. The little creep practically told me my life story."

"Oh?" Sherlock meets Grimm. Definitely freaky.

"Anyway, don't do anything stupid. She's only two months in and has ten kills already." Jedi meets Sherlock meets Grimm.

"Damn." This was Nick's turn to turn monosyllabic. He hadn't even killed one yet. Let alone ten.

"Some call her El Diablo." Monroe and Nick turned to each other. "More often, The Devil." Monroe wished he hadn't learned Spanish in high school. "You better watch out Grimm. She's ready to take over your place as the west coast Grimm."

"Thanks, Angelina." Monroe managed after a swig of wine. She hung up.

"Nick?" Monroe was slightly worried by the look in his eyes.

"How old do you think she is?" Nick looked like he was seeing a ghost.

"I don't know. But leave it for now. We're celebrating." Monroe got Nick another beer; heaven knew the boy needed it. They both needed something stronger than wine. Perhaps, a few shots of brandy or whiskey.

They didn't speak another word of The Devil.

* * *

><p>I don't know why. Wall is up.<p> 


	3. The Angel Sleeps

Gregory walked in nursing a coffee a few mornings after. It's not one of those froufrou mocha chai lattes with extra foam and a flavor shot or whatever it is from Starbucks that the other cops drink. It's a real coffee Guatemalan highland special roast. He'd been addicted ever since Angelina's then boyfriend, Monroe, introduced him to it. Needless to say it was love at first sight. With the coffee. Therefore he was not pleased when Lawson took his coffee.

"What is this?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"It's a Guatemalan highlands roast. Very robust." Lawson looked at the cup like it was the killer. "Any progress?" The older detective shook his head.

"I thought it might have been the ex girlfriend but she and the stiff were good. Her alibi is concrete. She was at a party and slept it off at a friend's." Gregory shook his head. The lawyer, a Thomas Avery and klaustreich, wasn't liked. He didn't have many friend and all together too many enemies. A search of the apartment led them to the murder weapon, a decorative vase. It wasn't a very nice vase either.

His nose did give him a few leads. That was one of the few things that were good about being wesen.

"Captain wants you in her office." Peterson walked up with a doughnut in one hand and a coffee in the other. Lawson blanched for a second before composing himself. Gregory swore that he would never sleep with his boss. Ever. Lawson was already half way to the office.

"Thanks, Porky."

"Good luck, BB."

* * *

><p>"Any developments?" She was just as lovely as ever; translate just as scary as ever.<p>

Captain Suzanne Baker sat at her perfectly organized desk looking at Gregory expectantly. Lawson looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Nothing ma'am."

"Nothing?" She proved incredulous, grilling them about every fact in the case, which there were very few of.

"And how about that girl?"

"You mean Viveca?" Gregory offered speaking for the first time since they entered the office.

"Yes" Lawson muttered something about a freak show.

"She is back in school and adjusting." The captain's eyebrows raised but drifted back in place.

"Detective Kreig, do you have any opinions on how to move forward with this case?"

Gregory looked away. No one ever asked the new detectives for their opinions.

"The vase may have had some special meaning so I'm looking into it."

"Just because the vase is ugly doesn't mean it's valuable." Lawson sneered.

"Look into it. And you are moved to point. Lawson, you are no longer on this case. You are not Kreig's official partner. Kreig, You are dismissed." Gregory looked at the two apprehensively. There was enough tension to cut with a spoon. This did not bode well. Lawson gave him what all the uniforms called the beet face and baker just motioned to the door.

Kreig spent the remainder of the morning going over the interviews again. He decided to play a second call to the assistant.

He also decided to get a little pick me up on the way.

* * *

><p>Mark Lazlo was a quiet man. He was a little over twety and certainly had the baby face to look younger. His brown rimmed glasses kept slipping down his nose. Mark was supposed to be a law major and was working to learn the ropes. They had caght him just as he was opening the mail.<p>

"Mr. Avery was not a nice guy." His face morphed into a quiet mouse's face, maushertz. Gregory did in kind. There was just a ceremonial thing about it.

"But you liked him?" Minna was sitting in one of the dark chairs. Luckily she ignored the shifts. No need to scare the man. She reclined looking calm and relaxed. Mark followed her lead and relaxed too. But her gaze was on him the whole time. Being on the receiving end once, Gregory was inclined to say that it was not comfortable.

"Yes, he gave me work and I learned a lot from watching him." He shifted in his seat.

"Are you absolutely sure that he didn't drop any hints?" Mark nodded.

Minna smiled. No, she grinned.

* * *

><p>"Do you have to scare all the suspects?" Minna didn't say a word, sipping at her tea. But, she had a smirk on her face that said she knew more than him, or anyone for that matter. This was probably her revenge for his asking what happened to her family. She huffed and stared out the window.<p>

"I'm sorry." He really was. Clearly, it was a sore spot. He knew what it felt like to lose one's family. More than one of his relatives was killed because it looked like they were going to steal sheep. Minna shot him a wary glance before sinking into the seat. Her eyes turned half lidded and she appeared to be day dreaming.

"Well, try not to look too terrifying. We're just going to interview a plumber. Tie up all the loose ends." She still didn't say a word. She just popped her collar, flashing the red on the underside. He tried not to strangle her.

* * *

><p>The plumber was an eisbeiber, Harold Freeman. It was quite natural. But that wasn't the best part.<p>

Minna was doing her best to not look scary. And she did a very good job of it. She let him ask all the questions while floating around the office looking at the various parts displayed. She had a serene smile plastered on her face and looked reassuringly at the eisbeiber. Every once in a while, she would look intently at the floor or at the tools left strewn about. But, she always returned to Gregory's side.

He started wondering if having a pet Grimm was a good thing. If push came to shove, she would probably back him up. Her presence was enough.

He couldn't help but smile half-way though his cup of coffee. He was imagining Minna actually being more walk than talk.

* * *

><p>"Can I take a look at the file?" Gregory looked up from the paper work and passed her the folder. As of yet it was sadly incomplete. There a few more details but none that really helped out. His nose was only so good.<p>

"Thank you, Sergeant Sniffer." she flipped through only paying attention to the layout of the victims apartment and the dialogue notes. She muttered under her breath every few seconds.

"There is nothing new under the sun." Eventually, she started making notes on a piece of paper. Then, after crushing it, would write another. A scent of frustration wafted off of her. Gregory guessed it would be a long night. It was only six p.m.

* * *

><p>At one am, Detective Gregory Kreig awoke to the strangest sensation. Something that wasn't supposed to be there was there. Or something that was supposed to be there was not there. He looked over his work area, looking for what seemed out of place.<p>

Nothing really.

"Looking for Viveca?" Gregory jolted. One of the night uniforms came out of the break room. "Sorry, we were out of doughnuts on the B&E unit. Your pet ran off about an hour ago. Probably tired that you were spending date night on a case."

Gregory furrowed his eyebrows. "Date night?" he asked. The last thing he remembered was dreaming about ripping the neck off a certain Grimm and lapping the still warm blood off the skin. It was most certainly unpleasant.

"Yeah, she's not your girl?" Gregory cringed. That was asking for his parents, siblings, and cousins to slice him open and remove his organs one by one. It was more unpleasant than his bloody dream about murder. It was time to set him straight.

"She's a..." he wasn't quite sure what to call her," consultant."

The uniform looked thoughtful. Eventually, he spoke. "Doesn't she do that freaky mind thing like Sherlock Holmes? Lawson was freaking out asking us who told her all that."  
>Unlike wesen, the first thing a human thought about wasn't getting their head cut off it was "the freaky mind thing".<p>

Gregory chuckled, "Yeah, she does. She is something else."

"Hm. I thought she was something else." There was a wink with something else.

Gregory frowned. "She underage first of all. And I'm a cop. I arrest people who do those things to minors."

The uniform laughed. "I'm pulling your leg. We all know you roll by the book. Watch out though, she seems a little psycho. Askar was in here an hour ago. After you hit the sack, she stuck around talking to you like you are awake. But she is fast. He goes in for a doughnut and when he comes out she's gone. Freaky."

They debated whether the coffee in homicide was better than the others, a unanimous yes, and if they should get raises, even though they knew it wasn't going to happen.

The uniform, who was revealed to be named Alex, looked at his watch. "Got to go."

Gregory watched Alex walk away. He was young, probably fresh out of academy. If he had any complaints about the new blood in the force, it was the sense of humor. But, he never really had a sense of humor to start with, so who was he to say? Viveca did look older than she was. It was due to the gleam in her eyes that said, "I know everything about you". Her formality was frightening at times. There was no indication where that came from.

He finally checked his messages. There was one text. The ID said Minna Viveca. Somehow, the little minx had taken upon herself to add her number to his book.

"GATE" Gregory sat puzzled over the message.

Gate? That was one of those words that didn't make sense in or out of context. She wouldn't have texted to say she was at the golden gate. No, the case wouldn't have taken her that far. There were no people named Gate in the case. There was also no place called Gate, besides the obvious. So an acronym was likely.  
>Gregory could be the first g. Or it could be go. Then the second would have to do with the investigation. Act? Arrest?<p>

"Detective," Alex was back. A bemused and horrified expression over took his face. "You might want to hear this."

After a brisk walk in the halls, Gregory joined them at the call in center.

"I lied. He... He wasn't with me. He... He went in. I was so scared and ... and he's my brother. I'm sorry detective Kreig I ... I really am." He recognized the voice. Jonathan Freeman. That meant… the letters clicked in place.

Go Arrest The Eisbeiber.

That meant. If she was... Dozens of worst-case-scenario's filled his brain. All of them involved getting fired and sued. Gregory pulled the receiver and punched in a number. Minna didn't pick up. He dialed the eisbeiber. Nothing.

"We have to go. A civilian might be in trouble." He grabbed his checked the cartridge in his gun. Full.

"We have to leave." He called in for Lawson to be there. The more experienced officer could be useful. The uniforms were a bit startled but Gregory gathered everyone and got them moving.

Getting into another patrol car, the uniforms muttered something behind his back. It sounded a lot like, "That is not just a civilian."

* * *

><p>Not my best work. I was going to flesh it out but that never happened. Next chapter ends the arc but not the series.<p> 


	4. The Devil Stands

Minna ducked behind a vat of oil. A Chinese restaurant was not her ideal confrontation space. She could hear voices arguing. Blood splattered across the bin next to her. She felt, for the first time out of her depth. Minna sent a text to Gregory, hoping he would answer. A voice called her threatening to light up the whole shop with her in it. Minna locked the device and stepped into the open.

Gregory arrived at the apartment panting. Rather than take the elevator, he sprinted up the four flights of stairs. "Mrs. Freeman, where is he?" he morphed into his western form, just to give her some comfort. "I'll do my best to help him, but a Grimm might be involved." he let her imagine what might become of her husband. The woman rattled off the address of a well known Chinese food place. Gregory pelted down the stairs just as the elevator opened on the floor, revealing several confused uniforms.

"SFPD! Open up!"

A sleepy Chinese man appeared above the shop yelling something.

"We are in pursuit of a suspect!"

There was no response. One of the uniforms, a woman stepped out and yelled in broken mandarin. The man seemed to understand and a few moments later opened the door. Gregory thanked him and had everyone fan out.

"Clear."

"Clear."

Empty. What was... He looked at the thin tendrils of red slipping down the drain. Blood. Pulling out a UV light he sent it over the floor. Whoever did the wash up had not done a good job of it. The floor glowed.

"Blood!" The owner looked in and saw what blood splatters remained. Then promptly fainted.

"Ambulance ETA five minutes," a uniform called while dragging out the limp man's body.

Gregory took a look around. Where was she? Think. Think. Minna's voice sounded in his mind.

"His collar is not done up and his tie is a mess no self respecting..."

his feet carried him over to the one discrepancy in the room. The freezer. Bolted when there was a new lock? He opened it. The air was freezing. It was set on the coldest setting. Enough to put something into a deep freeze. That was nothing compared to what he saw. Blood painted the walls. This was readily made possible by the slashed neck of the man on the floor. Gregory's nose picked up the scent.

Eisbeiber.

There was an other scent.

Much softer.

And warmer.

He pushed beyond the rack of meat, until he found the source.

Minna.

What struck him fist was how small she looked. She looked too small. All her ego and presence had curled up inside her. She looked like a lost child. Her skin was pale and her eyes were closed. For a second, it took his breath away. She was still breathing. He realized she wasn't wearing her striped jacket. It was just a white T-shirt and she had been in here for an hour at least. That meant... He lifted her small frame and carried it out. A voice whispered in his ear, he imagined with half lidded eyes and a small smile.

"Good dog."

The medic told him to hold onto her. His body heat would do well to keep her warm. And, they had already tried prying her off and failed. They just gave him a blanket and told him to deal with it. Eventually, he took a seat and placed her in his lap. She cuddled against him seeking more heat.

"Gregory." He flushed hoping no one heard that.

"I'm right here." Minna sat up, a Herculean effort.

"I caught the killer."

"You did." She tried standing up to the medic's horror.

"So he's in custody?" She was, surprisingly, steady.

"Minna, he dead." She stopped.

"What? You mean Lazlo's dead?"

Gregory tried to process that.

"What?"

So much for comprehension.

"Lazlo murdered them. Oh my Grimm, do you have a laptop on you?" He motioned her to the stairs. They, meaning Gregory as Minna was at the top in seconds, climbed up the stairs and made their way to the owner's office. There was no computer. After a bit of banging of doors, she procured one from the man's bemused son.

"Lazlo was marked off because he was left handed the blow was right. But, there are calluses from writing on his right. He is ambidextrous as you can see from my hands." Sure enough there were a few mild calluses on her fingers.

"He handled the letter opener steadily before as we walked in, but had mild tremors when speaking to you. Completely at home with dangerous objects, and, even when guessing I was a Grimm, was calm about it." She opened the Net book. Thank Grimm it didn't need a password.

"Freeman had too many stains on his overalls. Not to mention the tools that were recently cleaned had no bearing on his recent jobs. He has bags under his eyes and looked guilty until we told him what we were there for. He's was moon lighting." She went straight to a cell phone provider.

"I dropped my mobile into his pocket. So I should be able to..." The screen started loading. A uniform appeared in the door way behind them.

"Detective, you might want to take a look at this." Gregory was only mildly surprised to see a high speed chase on I-80. That couldn't be Lazlo. Lazlo was too... Mousey for that. But, he brutally murdered two people.

"Gregory, take a look at this." Minna held up the net book. The blip was moving fast.

On I-80.

There was the sound of gasps from the news caster. They turned in time to see the car slam into a divider, tearing it in half.

"He dead." Minna closed the Net book and set it on a table. The medic placed an orange shock blanket on her shoulders. She shrugged it off and placed on Gregory's shoulders.

"At least you saved the civilian."

She smirked.

"But, you still owe me a phone."

It was disturbing how keep the civilian safe had over ridden kill the already weak Grimm. He liked to think it was due to turning weider.

"You should have seen his face. He looked like Buffy was gonna stake 'im." The uniforms stayed until seven and were all having a good laugh with the day staff.

"All because of that new girl vanished. I like to say he's going to have some fun when she's legal. Am I right?" That drew several laughs. Everyone knew the law and what a stickler Gregory could be at times. Gregory shook his head.

"Aw… Come on, man. We know all about that sharing body heat thing." Thank Grimm, she left for school.

"Sorry, but we are completely platonic." The crowd laughed at his protests. Porky grinned.

"She showed me this cool thing online. It's called shipping. I got a ship name for them. 'Grenna'." There was another round of laughter. Gregory ignored them in favor of the flashing light on his desk.

"Detective, this is Carolina, the medic. I just wanted to tell you that Minna didn't pass out from cold. She was already sleep deprived and stressed." He ignored the rest bit where she mentioned couples counseling and that he should watch out for the girl's health. He sent Minna a text.

"People are talking."

He added she should try to eat and sleep.

She replied a few seconds later.

"People do little else."

No word on food or sleep.

* * *

><p>Wall is up.<p>

Okay, the end to the arc.

Questions you never asked.

Q: What about the vase?

A: The vase really was useless. Gregory found the heft to be very nice for bludgeoning with and managed to get a evidence box large enough for it.

Q: Why all the shippyness?

A: Well, I'm a Grenna shipper. Even if she is underage now, she won't be in another year or so.

Q: How do you come up with this?

A: Awesomeness. No, I always wanted to write my own detective. I like Sherlock. I also like Grimm. Minna was just a lucky shot.

Q: What Grimm tale is this based on?

A: This one is not based on any Grimm story. The next one is. The one after that is not so much. The one after _that_ is going to be so much fun to write.

Q: What was all that crazy-ish-ness in Chapter 2?

A: Just a teaser.

Q: Will any Grimm cast members make appearances?

A: Yes. Sorry, I wrote all OC, but a few will make short appearances.


	5. The Angel Witnesses

The sound of metal tearing apart is never pretty. It is a screech so sharp and grating, the listener would love to be deaf.

Sadly, they are not and so cover their ears.

That is what Minna is doing.

She braces for impact.

Airbags explode at her, flattening her body in white.

The jolt of the car as it turns and flips is enough to make on squeamish.

Next to her, she hears a yelp of distress.

She is still in that position when they get her out.

Fire fighters and officers are gathering around the scene.

She sees at least five cars and a shipping truck.

"Come on."

A hand is extended to her.

She steps into chaos.

* * *

><p>Minna stared at the headlines.<p>

This is what always happened.

She stared at herself in the mirror of her vanity set.

Her face.

Her hair.

Her nose.

Her mouth.

Her eyes.

"Why?"

Tears threatened to spill over as she clawed the desk leaving marks that joined the many already marring the smooth surface.

"Grimm."

She bit out the word.

It's the bitterest thing she's ever tasted.

The reason those people are dead.

The reason she is ready to claw her face off.

The reason her parents are dead.

She picked up the letter opener from her desk.

Her phone trilled an upbeat ring tone.

Gregory, the screen said.

Rubbing her hands against the blade, she picked up.

* * *

><p>Mother?<p>

Father?

Grandmother?

She can't see them.

"Teresa!"

She rushed forward as the medics take the girl's body away.

One officer restrains her.

"She'll be fine."

She knows otherwise.

Everything she learned tells her otherwise.

The officer leaves her.

Minna stands alone.

A new word for her.

Alone.

* * *

><p>She sat in interrogation.<p>

The man before her was not Gregory.

No, he was just another detective.

His jacket was a Christmas gift.

He was born on the east coast.

His marriage was smooth sailing and they had a newborn.

It was difficult for him on this case.

The deaths of five unrelated people.

Who were all related to her.

She knew the case against her is weak.

They had only conjecture.

Something for her to tear apart in mere seconds.

He asked more questions.

He tried to make her trip up.

She answered.

She didn't.

She expects him to ask her this question:

"Miss Viveca, care to explain why you know all the people who committed suicide?"

She waits to answer with…

Well, she hasn't thought that far ahead.

* * *

><p>Wall is always up.<p>

The title of the chapter is misleading.

So question: Does anyone notice the chapter titles? If so, do you have any ideas as to symbolism or pattern?

Please respond.


	6. The Devil Questions

"Minna can you explain why this mass of people is so terrified of you that they want to get a restraining order?"

Minna looked thoughtfully at the wesen family in the chairs. What a surprise they had when they discovered a Grimm was on the case. She smiled.

"I really have no idea."

* * *

><p>Gregory stared at the amazing mass of people before him. Noise levels were through the roof to his enhanced senses. There were snippets of conversation that seemed to be in the language of squeals and shrieks. Music blasted from speakers nearby. The scent of sweat was already musty in the air as people milled about trying to get in lines and take photos. Booths advertised everything from comics to Japanese anime to internet memes. Many dressed up in costumes, many of which he didn't recognize.<p>

This was the Ani2n convention, the gathering of geeks, nerds and other strange and exotic people.

He walked past a person who looked like a rainbow threw up on them. Another appeared to have a gigantic leek. No joke. The next appeared to be a pink pony. Again, not joking, HE was a pink My Little Pony.

The throng of people seemed to have no reaction to his badge. One asked where to buy one. Gregory wanted to face-palm so badly it was more like a head-any-hard-object-within-reach.

He made his way over to Artist's Alley. The crowd was worse. He tried to ignore the many posters and booklets that lined the tables. Some were strung over head. Here there were still some costumed geeks. Not as many but still there.

He did notice something interesting. There was a huge poster art. It was about a yard on each side. Priced at fifty dollars, they were still selling. The next thing to catch his eye was a square chicken. There were literally chickens in cube shape. A sign advertised them as cock blocks. How very funny. There were a few non-art booths. They sold costume pieces, headdresses and veils, or 3-D art, replicas if the photos of the originals were anything to go by.

An artist gestured to her wares, flashing cleavage while she leaned forward. Another artist sat back, above it all, as art flew off the rack.  
>A girl in a dress jostled him. At least, he assumed it was a girl. One could never really be sure.<p>

She looked fairly familiar. An off shoulder red dress clung to her body, revealing fragile collar bones. Her hair was tied up in high pigtails and curled the ends. Her skin was fair, like a doll's. He suddenly realized that was the effect she was hoping to achieve.  
>Gregory bumped into a stand much to the chagrin of the person manning it.<p>

"Do something about him!" The tanned teen started fumbling with bookmarks and color palettes.

"I'm sorry, but you're upsetting my friend." Gregory saw a girl holding a handful of business cards. Her make-up made her look like an expensive china doll. Pig tails looked coiffed to perfection even in the humidity. Yet, there was something to her carriage that denoted innocent sensuality. For some reason, he wanted to snap her in half. She had hair over half her face. The half he did see was smiling.

"Oh."

"Hello, Gregory," said the girl. The boy dropped his merchandise and went slack jawed.

He pointed at Gregory. "That's The Big Bad Wolf?"

She grinned tilting her head to one side. "Yep."

"What's up?" Another teen arrived with chilled water bottles. He stared at the three of them.

The tanned one pointed, had anyone ever taught him that was disrespectful, at Gregory. "That's the Wolf." The new arrival surveyed him.

"Four."

The teen at the table chimed in, "Five."

Minna shook her head. "Gregory, Seth and Justin. Boys, Detective Gregory Kreig, one of SF's finest, literally and figuratively." They laughed at that.

Gregory, still in shock, took the bottle offered. He put back a swig and let it clear his head. The three were still there.

Minna started, "I'm sure his pleasant sensibilities are in shock from the convention. Ani2n can be alarming for fresh meat." She theatrically gasped. "I mean new customers. Come to arrest someone, Detective?"

Gregory watched the other two. They weren't paying much mind, too busy resetting the stand. "Yeah, could you direct me to Vanessa Kwok?"

Clearly the boys were listening because eyebrows went into the stratosphere.

Minna tilted her head to the other side. "Alias: VaniRune online?"

Gregory bit his lip. "Yeah, you know her?" Minna sighed.

The boys looked nervous. Justin piped up, "We all know her."

Minna nodded.

"You can't avoid it."

The boys nodded in consensus. Minna tugged on Gregory's sleeve, guiding him through the crowd.

Smirking as she went, she called back to the table, "Nine."

* * *

><p>"She's a what?" Gregory tried to process the very foreign language.<p>

"Doujinshi-ka. Fan comic artist." There was no way that was a real word. "She also draws original ones."

They arrived at the crowded stand. A gaggle of girls were crowded around a poster. Gregory didn't deign to look. Some of the art work he'd seen at her friends stand was enough to put him off coming back ever again. Minna plowed on waving his badge at any one who dared cross her. It didn't take long to get to the front. Especially when he wasn't asking for directions.

The woman at the counter was in her early twenties. Wire rimmed glasses perched precariously on her nose. A flurry of colorful scarves "How can I help you, Officer?"

Gregory put on his strongest, most authoritative face. "I'm afraid I have to ask you a few questions, Miss Kwok."

Minna astutely looked into the crowd as the girl's face clouded. Recognition kicked in. "What for?" She asked trying to keep from imploding.

"The murder of Melissa Kwok."

Minna closed her eyes and walked away.

* * *

><p>Gregory had no difficulty getting Vanessa into the police car. She didn't argue. She didn't fight. She must have thought her silence would keep her safe.<p>

It wouldn't. If anything, the prosecution would want her burned at the stake. Hell, he wanted her burned at the stake. That would be the only fitting punishment to the crime.

The car made its way down the roads to the station. Traffic was packed like styrofoam packing peanuts. Forget bumper to bumper, it was an all out try not to get hit. He glanced at the mirror. Vanessa just sketched in her note book. It wasn't very bothering to her. She just looked wary, like she had seen this all before. She was not their only suspect. But the one with the most evidence against them.

But, now, looking at her, he had doubts. Minna hadn't said a word but he knew from the past (non-wesen just petty crime) cases he shared with her, she was rarely ever wrong. And if she was wrong, it was about the concept of ... Well, he didn't want to say because for the most part she was anatomically correct. For all parts she was anatomically correct.

The rest he just didn't want to say.

His phone buzzed. Thank heavens for Bluetooth. It took him only a second to realize it wasn't a call. It was a text:

_ wanna crsh yr plc bf is a btch_

He glanced at the screen in his dash. Surely, no. He hadn't spoken to her since college. Well, his college years, being around three years her junior. He remembered going to senior parties because his cousin knew everyone. That's how he met her boy friend. Thats how he realized he could make a difference. That's how he got to where he is today.

But, that doesn't mean he condones her actions. Bugs bunny was not a chew toy.

With a sinking twist in his stomach, Gregory pulled into the station.

Before he left the car, he sent a quick text back:

_I thought he was your ex._

His phone pinged as he walked into the station.

_Bf twc._

* * *

><p>And here we have someone special popping up. This character has made a previous appearance in the past chapters.<p>

I hope we have some guesses. I didn't see many people checking out the morst recent chapter.

Are you all gone? I'm trying to get a steady schedule, but I have other things on my mind.

Relax, I still don't have a real life. I live off your words as sad as it is.

Okay, this recylcled some text form my first draft of the Devil in SF. In that version, I hoped to just keep it a three-shot.

Go ahead and gasp over-dramatically like the teenage girls you are.

That was going to be it. But, after that the fire caught and I had to continue. So, kicks off a new arc.

Thanks to Pajaro Negro, Bee, Operating Under a Codename, and amy pond.

amy pond I still have no idea who the actors should be. Minna just needs a young brunette with a petit height and figure (head barely meets Gregory's clavicle). Gregory is a green-eyed blonde (tall with muscle but not bulk). Porky is a greying redhead (shortish). Lawson is greying (medium). Any ideas?

And a special thanks to Luke-Bones. Your reviews keep me rolling.


	7. The Angel Thinks

Wall of Disclaimers is up.

* * *

><p>Minna prowled around Artist's Alley. She was on the hunt. Not just for something like art or writing, no matter how many hit her straight in her face. No. She was on the hunt for evidence of any kind. It wasn't that she didn't think of Vanessa as a possible suspect. No, Miss Kwok was one of the top people on that list.<p>

It was that she knew better. Why would an artist eliminate all the big name competition? That would just make them a suspect.

She sighed in distaste at the crowd converging at VaniRune's table. This whole thing just made her immensely popular. They all thought it was an act.

She on the other hand took early leave much to Seth's distress. He wanted to know all the details being an avid fan of VaniRune's work.

Justin on the other hand was more than willing to drive her to the station.

Tugging her bag into the car, she asked, "How are things?" Justin just shook his head. Minna sighed even more deeply.

She had the golden rule of not letting emotion get into her work. Her friend was emotional. Crime was her work. The two just had a head on collision that probably involved a taxi and a few lorries. Just something to clean up.

Minna sunk into the seat. Her dress crinkled against her skin. Actually, the whole action of sitting in the car had probably mussed the skirts so badly she would have to make new ones.

"How can you stand it?" The question was something she hadn't expected. No she had prepared herself for a volley of derogatory remarks about her age and position. Seeing her expression, he plowed on, "I didn't mean it like that! It's just. It hasn't even been a year yet."

She didn't reply, only asked another question. "Can I change while you drive?"

"No!" He looked horrified.

"Well, why not?"

"It's not clean back there."

Minna snorted. "Like that matters."

"It does matter." Justin looked scandalized.

She shrugged. "Not really. And I know all about your porn stash."

"How the hell?"

"Language", she chided.

He revised it. "How did you know that?"

"The way you seem to mentally undress, tie down, and ravish a certain someone can say a lot," Minna offered.

"Minna!"

"Why won't you just let me change?" By that time they had made it to the station. Thank goodness for big re-routes.

"Because, I know exactly what you're wearing under that and, though I'm sure no be would mind a free show, I mind that it's out of the back of my car! Now tell me how you figured all of that out!" She was out of the car in a flutter of skirts.

"Min…!" The rest was cut off as she burst through the doors.

* * *

><p>Vanessa didn't say a word the whole interrogation prep. She just stared at the mirror, which everyone knew was a one way observation window. That and she sketched. Gregory had a pretty bad feeling about the whole thing. It was the kicking the cat and drowning the puppy type of bad.<p>

Or was it the other way around?

Lawson seemed to be preening. Apparently, he was the one who found the tapes. Yes, the tapes. That was the only evidence. He wasn't proud of it. But what could he do?

She wasn't a notorious wesen. A reinigen was not. Not by a long shot. But, he knew one of the other victims was. A Schakalen wasn't that nice to have around. They were slimy ne'er do wells. And for all he was worth, he had a corpse, therefore was with investigating no matter how much of a robbing robber who robbed he was.

He finished the last of the paper work and got Askar to stand as observation with him. And it was just as he looked up to go that a dark shadow fell upon him.

* * *

><p>"What are you staring..." Porky's jaw dropped. As did the rest of the station.<p>

This must have been something out of a TV show. Minna in a pink dress. To reiterate that. It was a pink dress with Minna in it.

Minna on the other hand resolutely ignored the stares and continued her verbal stream of thought. Most of it insulting.

"So what has this tomfoolery? Of Lawson, I expect, but you?"

Gregory sighed. "Orders from above." He got out of his chair.

Minna slumped. "You and your hierarchy of political twats." She planted her frilly dress in her usual chair. This was one of the worst bits about working with the law. Tied hands were even worse when they were your ride home.

"You aren't to be involved." Gregory patted her head. She only leaned onto his touch.

Minna protested, "She's innocent."

"I know." She leaned her head on her hand, mussing the curls. Gregory knew. Then, he would do his best. That she knew.

"You broke your diet", she called after him.

"You're wearing a dress", he called back.

* * *

><p>Minna was glad that her tirade was over. Gregory wasn't mad which was… nice, she supposed. On the other hand he left her the case files. Could anyone spell "score"?<p>

She flipped through the case file and stared at the bodies. Not thing to disgusting, but she was entranced by how the killer arranged everything. She noticed a transcript in the papers. Apparently it was of a tape found with the dead bodies. The true killers hadn't gotten to it.

She was still looking when a familiar uniform's voice called out a name.

"Penelope?" The girl, a usually vivacious red head, was drooping. It was then Minna realized how far the wesen world reached. She was staring one of her math's classmates in the eye.

"Minna?" The girl was more startled. "What are you doing here?"

Minna gestured to the file. "I'm a consultant." Penelope's face turned into a mask of pain.

"Tell them my sister is innocent. And Mellissa is a lying bitch." Penelope turned pink at her words.

"I know she's innocent and can you repeat that last part?"

"Mellissa is a liar." Minna took down the words in Gregory's notebook.

"Tell me more."


	8. The Devil Reveals

wall is up.

* * *

><p>Gregory left the interrogation less than satisfied despite the evidence there was nothing concrete to point Vanessa as the killer. The tape. Well that was just trash. People often freaked out on death tapes. But, that would be one huge misunderstanding. The only thing that could be used was Vanessa tearing up the transcript. She had said:<p>

"It wasn't true before, but I'll make it true now."

Gregory heard the same words from across the room. Minna was sitting at his desk taking notes.

"She said that?"

"Every time. When Mellissa ripped her dress before prom, or when they dated the same guy to name a few." The red head in the chair was totally relaxed around Minna despite being wesen.

"Minna?" Minna looked up from the pad. "Are you a…" So she didn't know? Oh, very interesting.

Sensing something was going to hit her like a ton of bricks, Minna turned to lock eyes with Gregory. "I think we can use the empty interrogation room, no?"

Penelope scrambled back against a wall. It was easy to see on her face that she contemplated screaming to high heaven.

But, that wouldn't have helped as Minna pointed out.

Gregory sighed. All the contents of her bag had ended up on the floor. The bag itself was somewhere in a corner. "This is why you don't tell people you know." Stupid smart Grimm.

"We're in the same math's class," Minna retorted she looked about the room. Cataloguing, Gregory knew.

"Just give her time." At this point Penelope still looked terrified. Just a little less.

Minna sighed.

"Fine."

Minna sat across his desk, tea in hand. She was out of the dress and in a comfortable pair of jeans. "I'm not going to need a lawyer, am I? You know the suicides?"

Gregory leaned into his chair and put his hands up. "I have no idea. Lawson wanted you in for questioning. He wanted you specifically in holding, but you're not dangerous. To him, anyway." Minna absorbed everything he said silently. She sipped at her tea until Peterman ran up huffing and puffing.

"Oh my goodness. The Grimm!" He took her free hand. "Frank Peterman. Bauerschwein. I just can't believe I'm meeting a Grimm. Are you by any chance related to any others? I heard from the grapevine there was one up north."

"No, don't think so." Minna took another sip of her tea. "And, I'm not much of a Grimm. I couldn't tell the difference between an orange and a mandarin."

"Not many can," Peterman admitted. "I was wondering, Grimm…

"Her name's Minna. What's up, Porky?" Gregory didn't want anyone to think he was any stranger than what was already on the table. Any person who could smell crime on the squad was normal. But literally? Weird.

Peterson shrugged. "Nothing. Why?"

"Lawson wants her in lock up."

"Wow. He's desperate for a killer, huh?"

"Yep. Nothing else is on his mind currently."

"You heard? He's having an affair with the Captain Borough."

"I was there when it was started." He motioned to Minna with his eyes. Peterman nodded.

"Yeah that was a shocker. I thought they were out for blood. I guess they were out for something else. Am I right or am I right?" Peterman grinned.

"Peterman! Where's the Taylor file?" A uniform called from the stair well.

"Got to go. Nice to meet you, Viveca," Peterman got up and trotted to the staircase. Minna sipped at her tea again.

"Bauerschwein. German. Literally meaning: 'Farmer' and 'Pig'. I'm guessing The Three Little Pigs." Minna pulled a copy of the Grimm's Fairytales out of her bag. It was a new copy but it had been worn down.

"You got it." Minna made a few notations.

"Of course I got it." She made a few notes. "You don't happen to be allergic to pollen and certain cedar woods?"

"No. But, my grandfather had a huge problem during pollen season." And the huff and puff.

"Thank you." She made another note in her book. "Too bad I don't have a Grimmoire." She closed the book and smiled at him. "But I have the next best thing."

"Kreig, I want Viveca in interrogation three." Lawson strode into the break room for his coffee.

"Three sugars?" Minna asked.

"I'm not even going to ask."

* * *

><p>"Miss Viveca, Do you know why you are here?" Minna shook her head. Gregory was watching from the observation room. He wasn't happy about leaving the two alone but he couldn't get out of it.<p>

"I could sue you for defamation of character." Minna didn't look scared. She just watched him with cool eyes.

"But I'm not going to." Lawson sat in the chair with his back to the mirror.

"Because you need me," Minna whispered. She didn't' seem so awed as she seemed smug. Her mouth twitched at the ends into a smirk.

"So I'm going to ask you to take a look at her apartment. That's all. We combed through everything but there are things we may have missed." She grinned her shark like smile.

"No."

* * *

><p>"No?" Lawson's brows shot into the stratosphere.<p>

Minna tilted her head to one side. "No."

"But… but…"

"I don't think she did it."

"Viveca. I could have you forcibly removed." She shrugged.

"There's always the anonymous tip line." He spluttered.

"Tip line?"

She gave him a comical innocent look.

"You don't think you solved all those cases last month on your own did you?"

* * *

><p>So, the arc is about half way finished. I didn't realize this arc would be so long. It's actually quite amusing.<p>

Anyway the conversation and introduction of Peterson to Minna was supposed to be in the first arc. I ended up repurposing the text.

So, see you next.


	9. The Angel Decides

wall is up.

* * *

><p>"Real nice, Viveca." Gregory got into his car and glanced to the pouting bundle in the passenger's seat.<p>

She gave him a glare. "He had me escorted out."

Gregory rolled his eyes. Minna could get so dramatic. But, at least she wasn't pouting. He started the car and on the way to the apartment he couldn't help but be introspective.

She hadn't said yes for Lawson. She would have never said yes. Instead, when he went looking for her five minutes later, she was in his car reading a comic book and raring to go. It seemed that though she got along well with just about everyone, he was the only one who could ask for favors. He glanced at her profile. She was staring out the window to the sky. The fog had broken.

Back to the case. Interrogation, the calling of a lawyer, and a playing of the tape, had gotten them one sentence.

"I'll make it true." And Vanessa had attempted to smash the tape recorder to bits.

Gregory had also come into a few clues from Penelope. It appeared that the sisters had one thing that always worked, lying.

Penelope had mentioned that Vanessa rarely did anything wrong. But, Mellissa always pinned it on her. And then Vanessa would retort that she "would make it true." And then, Vanessa would do whatever it was that Mellissa accused her of.

He glanced at the street sign again. In his musings, he had driven a lot faster than anticipated.

"Minna, want to know the new stuff?" Her eyes flicked from the window for a second.

"Not yet."

* * *

><p>"She was murdered, Gregory."<p>

He was staring at the apparent lack of blood. It had been the same in all the others. This room was like all the others too. It was a quiet room where the artist worked in peace. Unlike the others, Mellissa had lived in the city. That meant she was a bit of a different tune. The others had come from random parts of California and farther as guests. The others had been killed at the hotels, who sadly, hadn't turned up anything. The killer apparently travelled in crowds similar to the victims. Vanessa was a good a guess as any. But, as pointed out, she was smart. Too smart and this was not her doing.

"Yeah, I remember that."

Minna scanned the room. Forensics had already gone through it and been called a herd of buffalo. She wasn't going to forgive them for stepping on art anytime soon.

"There was someone else."

"Yes." Minna made to sit in the chair but Gregory lashed out an arm.

"We still have to take the whole thing to processing." She gave him a wide eyed look.

"You're joking."

"No. Deductions?" She eyed him warily before speaking.

"I can't get much. The killer appears about five–six or so, stride says as much. Also, your killer likes wedge heels, female is a definite. The victim had OCD and liked salt water taffy, wrappers are folded and organized. Maybe hoarding tendencies are beginning. She was off her meds, the prescription. A total of $10,000 worth of art is stashed in that thing," she gestured to a sculpture, "And, Mellissa was in on it."

Gregory glanced at his short hand notes. "What?"

"The killer appears about five…" Minna began.

Gregory waved a hand at her. "I heard that. What was that last one?"

"She was in on it." Minna raised an eyebrow. "My best guess from the files is that, Mellissa would join the other artists for drinks learn their room numbers and then pass them along. Then the partner, and this case killer, would have been there to dispose of the competition. Though," she gesture to the chair. "This wasn't supposed to happen. The killer was there watching her as she died. The last few helps that she whispers are for the killer to help her. Not to call out to a neighbor."

"So she was killed by someone she knew?"

"You know there is a statistic for that. They would have made a profit out of her death." Gregory shook his head.

"That doesn't clear Vanessa." Minna rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"Were you paying attention?" She picked up the sculpture and tossed it to him. "She's too tall. Those wedges had to be at least two inches to make that imprint in carpet. My aunt wears wedges if you're wondering. And I have an idea." She made for the door.

"That might have fingerprints."

* * *

><p>"How did we miss that?" Minna sat in the chair, a coil of rope ready.<p>

She let him bind her hands and upper torso to the chair, which sat in the middle of her living room. "The piece wasn't involved in the murder. It just sat on the shelf looking nice. Don't forget my feet."

"I won't. You noticed the USB sticking out of it!" Gregory muttered over the knot. "Tight?"

She moved slightly. "Tighter, if you can."

He pulled on the cords until she winced. "Perfect." He stepped back to survey his work. All that was left was another section. He never realized knot tying was labor intensive. The door bell rang.

"Do you mind getting that?" Minna was wriggling in the chair trying to break free. The struggle was funny to watch.

He opened the door to his apartment and blinked. "Oh."

A red head enveloped him in a hug. "Is that all I get?"

"Angelina, you're really in SF?" She pinched his cheek.

"You haven't changed a bit, Greg." She took two steps in before stopping. A look of fury was plastered on her wesen face. Gregory followed her storm into the living room.

Oops.

"Angelina!"

Angelina launched herself at Minna. There was a yelp and Minna, still tied, hit the floor. A knot became undone and she kicked off the mess of rope. Angelina, who had just narrowly missed was back for a second run. This time, Minna swung a chair. It just clipped the Blutbad, making it easy for Gregory to "wolf out" and tackle her to the ground. Angelina was feisty, and it was shocking that he had even managed to pin her.

"Grimm." She growled.

Minna was breathing heavily. Her face was flushed and she gave off a scent distinctively Grimm. "Blutbad, and Gregory's relative." She righted the chair and sat catching her breath. "Hello, Angelina."

Gregory felt a mild urge to rip her face off. She had read his texts again. No different than usual. Though this time he did have back up…

"Behave? I can't get you off on a misdemeanor charge." Last time Angelina was here, there was an outbreak of bar fights.

"Fine." She growled. Gregory got off his cousin. She glared at him.

"You and Monroe have both gone insane." Gregory glanced at Minna who was not watching but definitely listening.

"I know."


	10. The Devil Dines

Wall of Disclaimers is up.

Designs are on my deviantART. Just if anyone cares.

* * *

><p>"How the hell!?" Angelina jumped out of her chair fast enough to send it crashing into the counter of his kitchen, a good ten feet.<p>

Gregory just looked tired. He would have to go to Pottery Barn to get some more chairs if Angelina was staying. He waved a hand. Minna took a breath.

"You look at the photos for only a second. Then you look away, angry. You growl at me in a way that seems more than out of the ordinary. You are angry it involves a Grimm. I can only say from the look on Gregory's face when you whispered to him that a family member is dead. And it involves a Grimm. However, from the look on your face now, the Grimm wasn't the killer. It was something else. I assume it was a bauerschwien, since you two don't have good history and you have had run-ins with law enforcement." She took another look.

"You have been on the run for a few weeks. You either room with people you know or borrow money to get a place. The last hotel you stayed at was at most two stars. Your hair, though nicely arranged, has the sheen of hotel soap build up. You are a carnivore as I can tell by your order and the blood stain on your sleeve. Rare steak?" Minna eagerly looked for a response. A nod was all she got for her trouble.

"Jedi mind tricks," Angelina hissed. But she found what remained of her chair and sat.

"More like Sherlock mind tricks," Gregory offered. Cable had managed to hook him up with On Demand movies.

Minna's face brightened. Angelina sighed a "he's addicted to crime novels" sigh and glanced at the Grimm. "Granada failed you?"

"No. I mean the RDJ one." That earned another sigh. This one was a little more of a "yep, he's gone and done it."

"Just don't turn into Uncle Martin." Minna raised an eyebrow.

"He fell for a Grimm, almost lost his head in the process," Gregory supplied.

"We don't talk about it," Angelina noted pointedly.

Minna just stared between them. "It was the weider church that ended your happy relationship."

They glanced at her. All their history, just like that. "Yeah."

Gregory guessed it was time to tell Angelina what he hadn't told her before. "I didn't want to join at first. I saw Marie Kessler. She was terrifying. I jumped right on the boat." Angelina looked at him with a new sense of being. She waited a few moments before speaking.

"Kessler?" He nodded. He had been fifteen at the time. Not the best time to decide something for the rest of your life, but she was just that scary. Angelina seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"She's dead." Minna looked pained.

"Grimm?" Angelina seemed to have re-noticed her.

"Yeah. There's one up north. Burkhardt." That was another Grimm family line. There were the traditional Burkhardts and a Grimm line that Angelina seemed to know. "What's your name?"

"Minna Viveca."

Angelina smirked. "Wiped out. You're not the last but probably going to be the only one still alive at twenty," she glanced at Gregory, who was squeezing his fork a bit harder than necessary, "If he has anything to say about it, that is."

Minna nodded solemnly. "You said something about Monroe?" The look on her face told she realized she stepped on a land mine.

Angelina flipped her hair. "Don't worry about it. He's just my back stabbing ex. He traded my in for a GRIMM!"

Minna inclined her head. "I can imagine your anger."

"Of course!" Angelina broke into a rant about how Monroe and his backstabbing ways were going to end with a Grimm taking over Portland and her never getting to go back and visit Hap's grave. That and how the whole bloody church was an idiotic set up that brain washed wesen of their history and being. Then came a torrent of insults to the Grimm. There were a few about his stupid jacket and his boy band hair. It was better articulated that expected.

Gregory realized breaking out a bottle of wine wasn't wise around Angelina so he didn't and Minna just listened, soaking up the information.

"I have to see it for myself." Minna remarked, "A Grimm and a blutbad? Really?"

Angelina looked puzzled. "Yeah, it's beyond stupid." She looked between the two of them.

"I think so too in the current climate. Far too messy," Minna concurred. She made for the kitchen with their dishes.

"I'll load the dish washer. You paid for dinner," Gregory muttered following her.

She smiled. "Thank you."

Angelina peeked in. "What was all that about the rope any way?" She looked at the chair still in the middle of his living room with disdain.

Gregory offered, "We were reenacting a crime scene."

Angelina rolled her eyes. She picked up a photo. "You know, you tied the knots backwards."

Minna blinked.

"Gregory, I'll let myself out." She was out of the kitchen in a moment.

"Minna?" She was already in the hall, forgetting to close the door.

"The scent is hot!" he heard the distant patter of footsteps as she took the stairs instead of the elevator.

"Minna?" There was no sound.

"She'll be back eventually. She always comes back," he muttered. The station was her favorite place to be after all.

"Do you still like cheesecake?"

Angelina nodded looking peeved but not as angry. "Save me the strawberry one. I have to make a call."

Gregory got out the plates and served the multi-colored and multi-flavored cheesecake. Belatedly, he realized he had served three. A strawberry one, a plain one, and a coffee flavored one. He put the coffee one in the freezer.

"Who knows?"


	11. The Angel Dances

The next morning, he woke to hear the sound of the shower running. He checked the clock and got up. Gregory wandered into the kitchen in academy sweats and a t-shirt. Coffee. He started it off by digging his coffee press out of the dishwasher.

Angelina sauntered in, still dressed in yesterday's clothes but smiling. "You still love that stuff." Gregory grinned. Angelina was looking more like her old self.

"Yeah. Want a cup?" She shook her head and laughed.

"You and Monroe are freaks."

"We're weider; we have to get our kicks some way." He started making coffee. The first cup was run through the press once. The second was only half full. He added more hot water to the second.

"You didn't have instant?" Angelina was poking around the files. He really should remember to hide those.

"I have a vendetta against instant and you know it." She smirked.

"Rabbits?"

"Vegan," he warned. She rolled her eyes.

"Grimm told me you broke your diet while you were in the bathroom." He inwardly cursed the Grimm again.

"I won't let her use my badge number next time." Angelina rolled her eyes.

"Here." She tossed his badge onto the table. "She slipped it to me while you rambled about good wine."

"We live near Napa. I thought Whole Foods would stock something better." Gregory defended himself. Though he admitted he did ramble.

She gave him the warm family look she reserved for those who knew her since birth. "You have changed."

"Things have changed." She looked a little guilty.

"Yeah." A distant look was in her eyes. "You think I'll be able to go back?" Gregory shook his head.

"I have no idea. It might be a few years." She bit her lip, a habit she kept from everyone but him.

"Would you visit him for me?"

"I'll do you one better." Gregory showed her the calendar

'Sneak Angelina into Portland.'

She punched him softly. "Thanks."

His phone went off.

"I have to go."

She nodded grabbing her jacket. "Me too."

"Keep in touch? Uncle Jeremy was freaking out." He headed off to his closet.

She gave him a clipped reply.

"Maybe"

When he returned, she was already gone.

* * *

><p><em>Meet me at the convention.<em>

_What?_

_Now._

_No._

_NOW._

His texts went something like this. He didn't even think that far. He'd just thought about getting to the office. Now, she just told him to go in the other direction.

Great. He'd just gotten in too.

"Porky, is it bad that I have this random desire to crush a Grimm's skull?"

Peterson gave him a condescending look. "Yeah, totally normal. Trying to kill your mates, is that a blutbad thing?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's a predatory! wesen and submissive! Grimm thing." Peterson's eyes went wide.

"You are joking." Gregory sent another text back.

_Fine._

"No. She was pretty calm about all the ropes." Peterson gave him an odd look. Gregory just got up and grabbed his keys.

"Lawson, I've got to go." Gregory heard a grunt, which he took for a yes and was off.

* * *

><p>"Don't' tell me you want me in that." Minna tossed the red hood over her dark curls.<p>

"Do it. I'll need your help and besides couple aren't that odd. Now, let me attach the tail." He held still while she pinned something to the back of his pants. "Seth is going to worship you."

"You mean the artist boy? Mr. 'Five'?" Minna smirked.

"He will love you forever and draw fan art and make comics about you and your awesomeness."

Gregory gave her a horrified look. "You are kidding right?"

"Seth ships like it's a religion." Minna fussed with his hair, getting on the tips of her toes.

Gregory groaned. "Oh, god."

"Don't bring god into this. As far as I know he doesn't help the devil." She winked. "But maybe he'll help an angel." Gregory gave her an odd look.

She ran to the grand stand and hopped on stage.

"Ohayo! Watashi wa Viveka Minna desu!" Gregory didn't know Japanese but he knew she got her voice to sound like one of those girls in those magical-girl animes. That seemed to get everyone's attention. Especially the announcer she stole the microphone from.

"Hey, miss. Are you high?" The man looked wary.

"No." She flashed something. Gregory looked at his waist. He dropped his four lettered profanity of choice. He glanced around. Belatedly he noticed Penelope in the crowd along with a few officers all in plain clothes.

"So, now that I have your attention, I'll tell you all right now that I work as an unofficial consultant to the SFPD. Yeah, I'm their pet Sherlock, anyone who's got tabs on BBC." There were a few cheers.

"So all of you hear about that arrest yesterday?" There was a rousing cheer. A few were yelling about "the stupid government". Gregory felt the desire to snap them in half too. Considering they were a group of nerds dressed as skimpy gothic girls, he didn't think it would be hard.

"Well, it was real. Apparently some one's been bumping off all the great people over at artist's alley." There was a round of boos.

"But I can't tell you about it." A round of groans filled the crowd. The emcee whispered into her ear. The expression on her face turned fox-like.

"I'll do a demonstration now. Anyone?" She looked about and spotted a jumping Mario.

"Married, a young child, and you brought them with you?"

The man started gesticulating wildly. "Yeah!" there was a smattering of applause.

She pointed to a girl dressed like a cat. "You have a boyfriend that dresses like a dog, right?" the dog waved from the other side of the crowd. The cat girl waved back. At least I'm not the only one in a costume, Gregory thought over the din.

"You should tell your brother about the My Little Pony thing. I mean, he is dressed as one today so you should be alright about it." And of course she had to have a blip.

Minna settled her eyes on the crowd. "I'll read out a person in the crowd."

"You were jealous of an artist. I mean it was only natural. She stole your work and ideas these recent months. You just didn't have a chance. She was established. You weren't." A hush fell over the crowd. Minna's eyes roved over them like Gregory's.

"But, she came to you for help. She asked you to help her get rid of the competition. You helped her, because then you could help yourself. She would listen to you, because you were the smarter one. You told her that people would suspect her. That they already did. You told her you would help her."

She looked straight at Penelope.

"You killed her." Minna's eyes narrowed. "Or, rather, you let her die."

Penelope looked to bolt as cuffs snapped around her wrists.

Gregory whispered into her ear, "That was low."

"She was a murderer and thief. She got what she deserved." She bit back. Her mousey face stared back at him in fury. Askar, who barely concealed a chuckle, took her to a squad car that was apparently waiting outside. Everyone but me, Gregory thought.

"Now, please give a round of applause to Detective Gregory Kreig and the rest of the SFPD." Sh gave him in indulgent smile. "They work their butts off keeping us safe so let's give it loud like we're numbering over nine thousand!" There was some thunderous applause. People seemed to like man handling officers to the stand too. He stumbled on looking like an bumbling idiot. There were a few titters but nothing very loud. Minna just stepped forward taking his hands.

She pressed the microphone into them. "It's all yours."

Gregory swallowed and took it. One year of government, three years of mock trial team, and a childhood of being the spokes-person after their illicit activities all came back like the charge of a Pikachu. He could do this. Gregory took a deep breath. He could do this.

"Thank you, everyone, it's nice to know our home city supports us. Have fun, stay safe, and don't kill anybody. It's my day off and I'd like to keep it that way." There were a few cheers and more laughs.

Minna grabbed the microphone. "These costumes are of Akazukin and Takeshi from Akai Mori no Himitsu by Steal Your Thunder. May I just say the idea of the hunter being the wolf isn't all that original?" She tweaked one of Gregory's ears. "But, Akai Mori does it well." She gave them a peppy wave and did some cutesy pose. He heard a few, he was so going to hell for letting a teen get into that costume, wolf's whistles.

"Thanks everybody, check out table 221!" The microphone made its way back to the bemused announcer as Gregory high-tailed it off the stage.

Porky was at the bottom, camera in hand. Before Gregory or Minna could stop from slamming into each other, he snapped a photo.

"This is so going on instagram." Peterson looked at Minna's gloved wrists. "Did he hurt you? I mean blutbaden get that way sometimes. They are predators at heart." Minna's eyebrows went up.

"I'm fine, better than ever actually."

There was a gagging sound. "Really?" Gregory and Minna looked at each other and had an "oh, that's what he meant" moment.

"We are not shagging," they said in unison. Then, they looked at each other eyebrows furrowed.

Porky put his hands in the air. "Yeah. Sure." He didn't sound convinced.

Minna sighed. "Would you answer two questions one of which is this question?"

"Umm… What's in it for me?" Porky gave them both questioning looks.

Minna dangled a cube-shaped chicken in front of him. "You get this, alright?" Gregory recognized it as a cock block. It was sold at one of the booths.

"Right…" Porky looked mildly interested. It was twenty for a block.

"Is doujinshi-ka a real word?" Porky grinned. Gregory rolled his eyes.

"Of course it is. It's a fan manga artist, right?" Minna nodded and dropped the block in his hand.

"And we have a winner." She turned to Gregory.

"I told you it was a word." Gregory gave her a glare.

Peterson grinned.

"I'll leave you two to your little domestic."

* * *

><p>"So you figured it out because she doodled in Maths?" Gregory and Minna walked side by side down the length of Homicide &amp;Robbery's room.<p>

Minna had her cup, a specific red cup not used by anyone else in the station, in hand. "Yeah, I saw the pre-sketch in her notebook when she freaked out. Then, it was in full color on Melissa's desk." Gregory recalled the image in his mind.

"You are kidding me right? Those were a few stray lines." She shook her head as they approached his desk.

"You saw it upside down." She settled in her seat and opened up her copy of the Grimm's fairy tales and finished what appeared to be case notes.

"Microsoft word doesn't recognize the term doujinshi-ka," he informed her.

"It also doesn't recognize clowder or autorhinolarynologist." She finished writing. "You know, this is sort of like the case of the singing bones."

"Really?" He looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, there it was.

_The King understood it all, and caused the ground below the bridge to be dug up, and then the whole skeleton of the murdered man came to light. The wicked brother could not deny the deed, and was sewn up in a sack and drowned. But the bones of the murdered man were laid to rest in a beautiful tomb in the churchyard._

He looked at her notes, penned in blue ink from a thin ball-point. The words were slanted, small, and narrow. Like her.

Gregory sighed and took the book adding his own notes. He was helping a Grimm write a grimoire. "My grandfather would murder me with a murder. Did Vanessa win the competition?" The other detectives' eyes darted his way.

"He means a group of crows," she told the others. Minna leaned against the table. "Yeah, but she's using the money to get some therapy. Knowing her sweet, little sister was a killer was a shock." Minna's smile was bitter sweet. "My counselor is going to have a field day with this."

Gregory raised an eyebrow. "Counselor?"

"School." Minna muttered, "Fat bureaucrats think just because I help the SFPD that there is something seriously wrong with my psyche. It seems aiding the arrest of a criminal is a big no-no." She laughed bitterly.

Gregory chuckled shaking his head. Only Minna would think doing the things she does was normal.

"Go away. You have a Chemistry exam. I have paperwork." He spoke teasingly. Comfort settled around them. It was a warm blanket that wrapped them tightly in its arms. For once, it meant peace and calm. Not before a storm but before sleep. It meant the world of difference.

Minna's typically blank expression shifted to something tender.

"Ten."

* * *

><p>Wall is up. Thank you, Luke. You always review.<p>

As it is, I still don't have the next arc written. Also, I have taken on some new responsibilities. You all can guess what that means. I will have to slow down my updates. Not bad since I'm having a little bit of a block anyway.

I'm not leaving. No, I won't be going anywhere for a long while. Thanks for sticking around for this arc and I hope to see you next.


	12. The Mortals Plan

Monroe grimaced at the bitter tang of the coffee. It was as dark as Satan and hot as hell. It could take to roof off a human's mouth. He rubbed his beard and wondered why this monstrosity of a Colombian blend would appear in his coffee maker.

A soft thump echoed from his living room. Nick. He heard the man yawn, soft as a kitten. The pops and cracks as he stretched were a little worrying, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Monroe could smell Nick nearing before he saw any trace of the man. Warm musk and the heady scent of last night's wine wafted into the kitchen. A darker undertone, something more bitter and sharp reminded him the warm, fuzzy man making his way into Monroe's kitchen was dangerous, as much as his sleep tossed dark hair said otherwise.

Nick planted himself onto of the marble counter with as much grace as anyone who hadn't had their morning cup could. He blinked bear lily at the coffee cups. "Can I get one of those?"

"Sure, Nick." Monroe dimly reminded himself of the days when they weren't so close. He remembered the mornings when Nick appeared downstairs bright eyed, bushy tailed, and dressed for the most part. He smelled the same then as he did now. "Starbucks can suck it."

The man blinked rapidly again. "What?"

Monroe took a sip of his coffee. He tried to look anywhere but ahead. "Starbucks can suck my you know... I thought you coppers would hear that sort of thing more often."

Nick's face scrunched up and his eye brows set together. "No, Monroe, why did you just say that?"

The blutbad raised his eyebrows and began speaking animatedly, "Oh, it's the name of the coffee, two sugars and a dollop of honey. Sally found this thing called fan fiction and I read one for that Avengers movie..."

The detective took a sip of his drink. He let the sweetness roll over his tongue. It tasted better than he imagined. "Fan fiction?"

The blutbad waved his hands as he pulled some whole grain, multigrain bagels out of a bag. "It's, like, writing by some group of people on the Internet. Most of it's porn, and bad porn at that, but there's some good stuff..."

Nick let his head loll back. It was way too early for this thing. No, actually it would always be too early for it. "Monroe... I..."

Monroe waved him off and put a tub of cream cheese on the table. The toaster happily toasted away oblivious to the whole ordeal. "Sally can explain it next Wednesday. You are coming over for Monroe's Wesen Halfway House Wednesday, right? Barry might be there."

Nick rubbed his face. He felt a little more like a human being now. "Yeah, of course. Look, you remember that thing that Angelina was talking about last night?"

Monroe hoped, actually, that Nick forgot about it. No such luck then. "Yeah? What of it?" He spread a slab of salmon and cream cheese over one and handed it to Nick. He preferred his own bagels with less dairy and meat. Also, the smell of smoked salmon make his nose burn. The detective took it without skipping a beat.

Nick took a bite of the bagel, shoving half of it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. "In a month, Juliette is going to stay with her parents in Seattle for a week. I begged out last week. I say, we use that week to drive down to San Francisco and meet this 'El Diablo'."

Monroe leaned against the counter across from Nick and sipped his coffee. He glanced at the news papers on the table, the headlines screaming out at him. "Sure, Nick, yeah, we can totally just sneak around your girlfriend and drive down to San Francisco together. No problem there."

Nick narrowed his eyes at Monroe. "Are you implying something?" He shoved the rest of the bagel into his mouth, taking his time to chew properly.

The other man sipped his coffee. "Nope. Not implying a thing. Not a thing at all." He smiled for effect.

Nick laughed. "Okay, then, I'll book us two rooms."

Monroe wanted to protest, say something like, "Are you out of your fairytale mind? This is a bad, bad, bad idea. Believe me, I know bad ideas.", but instead shrugged, stretching his shoulders. He could see it in his friend's eye, the spark of hope over shadowed by fear. "Nah, I think one's enough."

At Nick's raised eyebrow, Monroe smirked. "What? I'm allowed to have friends who let me crash on their couch too."

Nick nodded and put down his coffee cup. He trudged out the kitchen and presumably upstairs to shower. Monroe downed the rest of his drink feeling it burn a little on its way down. A month. He had a month to convince Nick to not go. Maybe he could find a way to dissuade the determined man. He could feel his plans going south.

"Towels first door on the right." Not that Nick needed to grab any. He had a monogrammed set in the bathroom. Monroe insisted when he found Nick's closet migrating into the guest room's. He somewhat hoped it wouldn't get to the point where he requested the man split food and water bills with him too. It was getting there.

* * *

><p>Okay... Belated update. Really belated. Anyhow, I'm not dead, but updating whenever I have something put together. More often than not, I have nothing. See you whenever.<p> 


	13. The Devil Abides

Voices echoed off the wooden shelves. The books bore witness to the silence that filled the air. The soft rug curled wondering over the blood that would be undoubtedly spilled. An intercom remained silent and still, hoping beyond hope that it would not be called on and betray it's nervous tension. A plaque sat in resignation, know what no others knew. The visitor would not have her way.

"Sir, I'm sure you'll find that my work has been more than satisfactory. In this past week I've provided valuable insight in several cases that led to the prompt arrests and convictions. I'vecleared box after box of missing person's cases in the past month, boxes that gathered dust in the store rooms. Families finally have the closure they needed years ago. I'm a huge asset to this city and the crime units." Minna gripped the edge of her chair. Her knuckles turned white, manicured nails digging into the wood.

The mayor furrowed his brows. "Miss, as much as you are helpful, what you are doing is illegal. We can't allow that. Also your work isn't insured. We can't trust that you wont be hurt or cause damage."

"Sir, please, this is what I'm good at. You know what I'm like from my records. Homicide keeps me on a tight leash. A little good faith is all I ask." Minna held her breath. Her muscles tensed, becoming a wound up coil ready to burst. A traitorous little voice echoed in her head as the mayor stilled, "You're being selfish, don't even try painting it any other way."

"I'm sorry. If you were older, we might allow this, but you're not and as such there is nothing we can do." The man sighed. "I can't look to one person's interest over that of the city."

"Bentham's utilitarianism, the best for the greatest number, the theory derived from majority rule in democracy." Minna sighed. She wrapped her left hand around her right wrist feeling the tip of her middle finger touch her thumb."I understand, sir. I've filled outall the necessary nondisclosure agreements. Thank you for this opportunity to plead my case. I completely understand."

The man rubbed his beard and settled back in his chair, a slight smile appearing over his face. "You should have gone into law instead of criminal justice. I'm sure some of the boys in my class would have wanted a memory like yours. I know the DA has an internship position open. Get the form from my secretary."

He couldn't resist a sigh at her crestfallen face. A person the same age as his child shouldn't the involved in things like this. He knew he would never allow it. "Don't take this personally. I'm trying to do what's best for all of us."

"I won't, sir. You will want to note the growing dissent against the cuts in education in your next official press release." Minna got up from her seat and walked out, feeling like she dropped a little part of herself every time she moved. She nodded goodbye, shutting the door quietly behind her.

The mayor shook his head. Why crime? Really, she could have gone into law, he hadn't lied when he said that. There were internship forms. He highly doubted she would take one.

Robert Tracy turned to the window that over looked his series and wondered if he would still be in office when she was a member of the force. He knew one of the two at least to be an absolute guarantee.

* * *

><p>Gregory rubbed his nose. Darn super sniffer. He could smell the perfume off every woman in the area and identify them. Sandal wood and mint off the woman passing. Jasmine, lavender, with a slight hint of musk gave the a woman in a slinky navy pencil skirt a seductive, lustrous aura. Vanilla and amber gave the paralegal coming down the steps something more refreshing. Her pale blonde hair stood out in the crowd. She smiled at him alluringly, all puckered lips and velvety red lipstick.<p>

He smiled at her tapping his badge and holding a finger to his lips. The universal, sorry, I'm on duty. She blushed and winked. She stepped into a cab and waved to him as she passed. No such luck then. He'd pulled out his note pad for nothing.

A man brushed past Gregory filling the air with the heady scent of musk and tobacco. Not a cologne, underneath it all he smelled smoke, ash, and Irish Spring.

"Gregory?" He turned to make some sort of snarky remark. She tapped a roll of paper on his nose and he distantly wondered if one could get paper cuts on their nose. What was he going to say again? She shook her head. Gregory shook himself.

He opened the door and ushered Minna inside. "Why do you always stand downwind?"

"Aw... You'd get tired of my scent." She beamed up as he slammed the door and dodged a hailstorm of honks.

"Damn. Stupid traffic." Gregory dropped into the driver's seat and pulled on his seatbelt. Minna laughed as he maneuvered out the parking space.

The passed Market street a few moments later with Gregory's blue eyes staring hard at the red Camero in front of him and Minna reading whatever it was she had in her hands.

"How did it go?" He asked feigning nonchalance. She didn't look up from her roll of paper. He felt the air tighten around him and squeeze.

"Badly."

He sighed, something unavoidable these days. "'Arrested and indicted' bad or 'got away with a few scratches' bad?" Both were legitimate in his eyes, depending on whether she used "the antisocial child who really needs corpses to function" or "condescending kid who bore a blatant disregard for rules". One or the other. These were the moments he was glad his shade of blonde hid grey until he had a full head of it. He was getting there.

"'Not going to work for the city until I turn eighteen' bad, which isn't all that bad." Minna stared at the roll. She wasn't reading, he noted. Her eyes scanned the page, taking in every word but hot taking in the meaning. "He offered me an internship at the DA's office."

Gregory breathed deeply. What was that they said about not quitting your day job? "What are we going to do? You've practically moved in to my office and it's only been two months."

She turned, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. A frown languished on her lips. "Our one month anniversary passed?"

"We sat in the break room and wrote reports together after hours." He remembered that because he'd heard Askar talking about it later and, no, he wasn't the girl in this relationship. Especially when there was a girl in the relationship and it wasn't him. Now, he had to stop being a big girl's blouse about the whole thing and figure out what that would mean for his success rate. What if that meant Lawson would start dragging him along again because the one thing that kept him away, his hatred of short brunettes (really, it was almost a pavlovian reaction to disappear whenever one appeared. Gregory could only assume his wife was one), was gone? Really, the older man needed to keep his hand to himself and since they were still partners more or less he'd be stuck with it.

"That's not unusual." Minna leaned back in her seat, eyes sliding shut. She hated paperwork with the same amount of fury as any beat cop. Problem was she had more of it.

Gregory made a turn. "Minna, these are the moments when I remember we are both workaholics."

"You need it to keep you in check," she sighed, brushing back her chocolate bangs. When had they gotten so long? He was a cop. He was supposed to know these things!

"And you're any different?" he asked.

Her green eyes curled at the ends into an emerald smirk. Her pink lips paused, still. "Yes. I'm 'going through a phase' as my psychiatrist puts it. I believe to compare the two of us to the same scale is a false analogy and so the case is moot point." A beat. They laughed. His deeper tenor rising and falling around her sharp alto soprano.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked. The station appeared around the corner and he slid into the parking lot, smooth as silk.

She laughed drumming her fingers on his dash. "Make you procure evidence boxes from Peter and help me move my things."

He sighed and turned off the engine. "Minna, what did I say about taking city supplies for personal use?"

She pursed her lips into a pout and clipped him with a light punch. "I bought you all a Keurig machine and this is how you repay me?"

Gregory ruffled her hair. Minna shuddered at the contact and batted his hand away. A slight crinkle at the edge of her eyes brought him a sense that, yeah, it would be alright.

And that was that. The officers loved their shiny new coffee maker almost as much as they loved getting the collar.

* * *

>Okay, so let put this out there. As much as I love Minna working for the SFPD (well, not exactly; she's like a daughter to me so you can imagine how we'll that goes over), it is really not a feasible enterprise. She has been in legitimate danger and the only reason why there isn't a strike team ready to arrest someone for, firstly, child labor, and, secondly, negligent abuse is the simple fact they've been pawning it off as theiwooden work. She was going out on a limb when she told the mayor about those cold credit for cracking the box was given to the officers an all nighter run. Reports state she happened to be there checking up on them and pointing out a connection they missed. A majority of case reports look like that. Don't worry, Minna will still be poking her nose where it shouldn't be, albeit from a more clandestine position, if I keep writing.<p><p> 


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